


Fishy

by catholicschoolgirl



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Crossdressing, Drag, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 16:38:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/915529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catholicschoolgirl/pseuds/catholicschoolgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Zayn was either going to go to school in complete drag this Halloween, or he was going to scrub off all of this morning's effort and go to school as quiet, artist Zayn, which was probably the real Halloween costume, now that he thought about it.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fishy

**Author's Note:**

> This was obviously inspired by Zayn's character, Veronica, in the Best Song Ever music video, and by an anecdote Tatianna of RuPaul's Drag Race Season 2 told about going to school in drag for Halloween. Thanks, Frida, for reading over this and reminding me to post it!

It was seven in the morning on Halloween and Zayn was staring at himself in the bathroom mirror as his sister, Doniya, banged on the door.

“Oi, how much longer you gonna be?” Doniya bellowed. “Some of us have shit to do!”

“All right, all right!” Zayn yelled back, giving the door a surly look before returning to gazing at his reflection. A completely different person was staring back at him, a soft feminine face carefully contoured with make-up shyly purchased at the Mac counter, eyes winged with a thick cats eye, and a nude lip, completed with a wavy brown wig that probably could have done with some bangs, now that Zayn was analyzing the complete effect. But that was neither here nor there – it was now or never. Zayn was either going to go to school in complete drag this Halloween, or he was going to scrub off all of this morning's effort and go to school as quiet, artist Zayn, which was probably the real Halloween costume, now that he thought about it. After another moment of dithering, during which Zayn played awkwardly with the hem of his skirt (taken from his mother's closet), and poked at his cleavage (courtesy of Youtube tutorials, pantyhose, rice, and more contouring), Zayn drew a deep breath, hand trembling briefly, before he muttered, “Fuck it,” and finally opened up the bathroom door.

 

Zayn had always had a bit of a _thing_ for dressing up in women's clothing. Nobody in his family really seemed too fussed by it, and if anything his mom encouraged it, letting him wear Doniya's hand-me-down Mary Janes around the house and marveling over how still he stood when she showed him how to apply a thin layer of lipstick over already pink lips. And that was kind of the amazing thing about being surrounded by girls – his family just saw him as another doll, and taught him all the tricks of the trade as they learned them – how to apply eyeliner on his top and bottom lids and smudge the lines into a subtle smokey eye, how to curl his already impossibly long eyelashes, and he practically became an expert at applying nail polish by the time he was five. After school at primary he would read _Vogue_ as a reward for doing his homework, and by the time he was thirteen the subscription was in his name, and he spent hours poring over the pages, marveling over the exquisitely crafted ensembles, sketching his own designs in the back of his school notebooks next to depictions of Spiderman and the Incredible Hulk.

Zayn's parents just seemed to think he was very sensitive and encouraged him to express himself however he saw fit. Things were generally tight money-wise in the Malik household, but Zayn never had to worry about not having any paper to sketch on or no eyeliner to play with.

In school, people outside of his immediate friend group tended to give him a wide berth. There was a clique of kids that seemed to make it their life duty to make Zayn's life miserable, pushing him around in the hallway and calling him all types of awful slurs, but Zayn was scrappy and knew how to use his hands, whether that meant applying a thin line of silver glitter to his eyelid while staring into his sister's dirty compact, or landing a solid punch right to the gut of a particularly nasty bully. When Zayn became friends with Danny Riach, the physical altercations all but stopped, as everyone knew better than to fuck with Danny. Up until then, Zayn didn't really have too many friends that weren't already his cousins or something, but starting college practically opened up a whole new world for Zayn. Danny and his little brother, Ant, were basically a package deal, and then Zayn met Louis Tomlinson, who sat next to him in maths, and through Louis he became pretty good friends with a girl from the grade below, Perrie Edwards, and the pack of girls that she hung around with. Sure Zayn wasn't popular, but everyone in his crew was really solid, and at some point a lot of the people who had been calling him queer for years started to congratulate him on bagging a girl as hot as Perrie, which was so wrong on so many levels that Zayn generally couldn't even come up with anything to say in response to correct that notion, so it all worked out, in a really fucked up way.

Until one summer day Zayn and Louis had gotten completely baked in Danny and Ant's backyard, letting the soft smell of marijuana waft through the air, and Zayn had somehow started blagging on about some drag tutorials on YouTube which like, wasn't their usual line of conversation. Zayn honestly couldn't even remember how they had gotten there – something about secrets? And true happiness? But Louis wasn't sneering at Zayn in disgust, just kind of holding the spliff loosely between his fingers with a contemplative look on his face.

“Why don't you just wear drag to school on Halloween?” Louis said, never the type to beat around the bush.

“Are you serious?” Zayn asked, going shivery all over at the thought of it. It sounded so dangerous, so fucking taboo actually – and of course that's what made it so appealing.

Louis had smirked and said, “I dare you,” and so that was that.

Zayn had spent all summer getting ready – steadily accumulating makeup and brushes, watching video after video online, walking around his room in pumps that he'd ordered during blowout sales online, and saving up for a wig and a good hair curler. His mother was going through her closet and getting rid of clothes she no longer fit when Zayn came across the skirt – too small for her, but perfect over Zayn's slender hips – and he picked up a nice button down at Oxfam. A few days before Halloween, he went to Tesco and loaded up his cart with 3 for 2 knickers, rice, a few packs of pantyhose and a bra and ignored the inquisitive look of the boy who rung him up. When he got home he poured a cup of rice into one of the feet of the pantyhose, wrapping the material around the rice a few times before tying it off and doing the same to the other foot. After cutting up the pantyhose and placing his makeshift breasts next to the makeup chest on his dresser, Zayn surveyed the work he had done, and realized he had never felt so proud of something he had created.

 

So Zayn stepped out of the bathroom, and Doniya took a step back, clearly surprised that Zayn had finally opened the door. “Whoa,” she breathed, taking in the full effect. Zayn had wore makeup more than a few times out in public, and was particularly fond of wearing eyeliner and a touch of eyeshadow behind his glasses whenever he went out somewhere special, but Zayn couldn't remember the last time he'd let his family see him in women's clothing, or in heels. Doniya let out a low whistle before grinning up at Zayn. “You're quite the stunner, aren't you?” she said, motioning for him to do a twirl. Zayn obliged before resting an arm on the door frame, trying not to chew on his lip lest he mess up his lipstick.

“I look all right?” he asked.

“More than all right, you look dead on Waliyha, actually,” Doniya said, brushing past Zayn to walk into the bathroom. “You've got a big ass forehead, though.”

“It's the wig,” Zayn answered as he tugged on it nervously.

“Stop it, you look proper fit,” Doniya said, moving to knock Zayn's hand away. “Are you going on the bus like that?”

“Louis is gonna pick me up, he kept saying something about wanting to make a grand entrance.”

Doniya barked out a laugh before turning to the cabinet above the sink and taking out everything she used for her morning beauty regiment. “Well, I'm sure he'll be here soon then, so get the fuck out. Have a great day, Zaynie.”

“Laters,” Zayn said, blowing Doniya a kiss. She pretended to swoon and giggled coquettishly as she caught the kiss and then slapped that hand firmly on her bottom. Zayn rolled his eyes and walked back to his room, ignoring his backpack and instead grabbing the large brown purse Perrie had loaned him the week before. Zayn collected his hair to one side before throwing the purse over his shoulder, checking to make sure he had tossed a compact inside along with his school supplies. He gave himself one last quick look in the mirror, thinking triumphantly, “I do look quite fishy,” before he turned and left.

 

Zayn felt like fucking Beyonce by the time he finally got to school. Louis had picked Zayn up, as promised, letting out a low wolf whistle at the sight of Zayn all done up, but otherwise not saying anything particularly snarky. Louis himself was dressed up like Ghostface from the _Scream_ franchise, although he had thrown the mask into the backseat while he drove. “Tried to do a couple blocks with it on,” Louis explained as they turned onto Perrie's street, honking to let her know they were outside. “Not a good life decision on my part.”

Perrie came out of the house in a skin tight Catwoman costume and let out a delighted squeal as she climbed into the backseat. “Hardly recognized you, Zayn!” she exclaimed as she buckled in her seat-belt. “I was wondering how Louis was able to get such a fit girl into his car!”

“Ha, you're a riot,” Louis deadpanned. It was only a few blocks from Perrie's house to the school, and Louis pulled into his usual spot next to the gymnasium. He turned off the car and directed a look to Zayn. “Sure you're gonna do this, mate?”

“Definitely too late to go back now,” Zayn said, unlocking the door. “We're already here.”

Louis nodded, trying to hide his smirk, and Zayn could see Perrie grinning widely in the rearview mirror. Letting out one last deep breath, Zayn pushed the door open, putting one leg out and then the other like a proper lady, shimmying a bit to get his skirt to move back down where it had ridden up on his thighs. He reached back into the car to grab the purse, and looked up through the windshield to see a pack of jocks next to the gym staring at him, all wearing identical gobsmacked expressions.

And that was all it took really. Zayn smirked at them as he shut the car door and followed Perrie and Louis into the building, ignoring the shocked murmuring now bubbling up behind him from the gym. By the time Zayn was in the main hallway, he felt like a right diva, his heels click-clacking against the tiles as he strutted to his locker.

“Everyone's staring,” Perrie whispered somewhere near his shoulder and, yeah, Zayn knew. His classmates were looking at him with varying expressions – surprise, confusion, and even arousal. It was heady, intoxicating, and Zayn knew now that he could never go back to being that quiet kid that everyone sort of ignored, but it's not like he _wanted_ to, not at this point, not when he now knew what it was like to be the absolute center of attention, capable of rendering loudmouth boys absolutely mute and generating the thrilling mix of jealousy and lust in his female classmates' faces. Zayn reached his locker and said a quick goodbye to Louis, who he would be seeing right before lunch in Music. Perrie tittered next to Zayn for a moment before seeing her friend Leigh Anne dressed up as Tiana from _The Princess and the Frog_ and running across the hallway to talk to her. Zayn smiled bemusedly and turned back to his locker, taking out his textbook for English when someone leaned on the locker next to his and cleared their throat.

Tensing up immediately, Zayn turned his head and was met with the sight of jock extraordinaire, Harry Styles. Harry appeared to be dressed up like a lumberjack of some sort, or maybe that was just how Harry normally dressed out of his uniform – Zayn wasn't entirely sure. Harry was in lower sixth, meaning the two had absolutely no classes together and had never previously interacted in any way whatsoever, but it wasn't like Zayn didn't know who Harry was – Harry was a pretty decent footie player, even if he did flail a bit more than most, a tremendous flirt (there were rumors he had slept with the Communications teacher, Ms. Flack), and he threw spectacular pool parties in his bungalow during the summer. And now he was standing rather close to Zayn, staring in this really intense, vaguely unnerving way, and Zayn was resisting the rather strong desire to bolt straight to his first class.

“Um, yes?” Zayn asked, closing his locker shut and leaning against it. He once more found himself fighting against the habit of chewing on his lip.

“Are you not going to talk like a girl today?” Harry inquired, tilting his head a bit. “Your regular speaking voice is rather deep.”

“Can I ask what you want?” If Harry was going to play the whole “respond to a question with another question” game, Zayn was more than willing to play along.

“Uh, to talk to you, really,” Harry said, running a hand through his curls nervously. “You look quite fit today. Well, you look quite fit everyday, which I'm sure you're already aware of – ”

And now Zayn was pretty sure his brain was completely short-circuiting.

“And I know it's weird to like, hit on you, especially when you're in drag, but like, why not? So. Uh. Do you want to come over to my house tonight? There's gonna be a small kickback, which means someone will inevitably tell half the school and I'll be fishing underwear out of the pool's vents for the next two weeks, but like. Yeah. Please say yes?”

Zayn was suddenly hit by the realization that Harry Styles, jock extraordinaire, was not particularly smooth. But Zayn was okay with that, because Harry Styles, jock extraordinaire, was also quite good-looking, and he was looking at Zayn with this completely earnest expression that made Zayn want to peel off his 3 for 2 Tesco panties and fling them across the hallway so that Harry could have his filthy way with Zayn immediately, rucking up his skirt, smearing his lipstick and pulling on his wig.

Zayn coughed and looked down, trying to hide the smile that was threatening to split his face in two. “I might be able to do that, yeah.”

“Awesome,” Harry said, lighting up completely as he ducked in and gave Zayn a quick peck on the mouth. Harry came away with a smear of lipstick on his lips, but he didn't seem to mind, instead pulling out his cell phone and asking Zayn to punch in his number. “I'll text you my address,” Harry promised just as the first bell rang.

“'Course,” Zayn responded, still feeling quite dazed. Harry ran his hand shyly down Zayn's arm, and then turned and waved as he made his way down the hallway to wherever his first class was.

As Zayn turned in the opposite direction and made his way to English in a daze, he couldn't help but think that this was shaping up to be the best Halloween of his life so far.


End file.
